


Pride and Power

by RogueLioness



Series: Kiana Trevelyan One Shots [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Freeform, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Power.<br/>Pride.<br/>Can they mix?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride and Power

_Pride and power do not good bedfellows make._

His entire being _oozed_ arrogance. It was hard to believe this was the same quiet, calm, soft-spoken man who had joined the Inquisition. 

He smirked at her, his pleasure at her captivity evident. “Caught you,” he teased, his voice implying there would have been no other outcome.

He viewed it as some sort of twisted entertainment, this thing between them. Each time she would struggle to free herself, for her people needed her, and each time he would hunt her down and drag her back to his castle.

“This isn’t a game, Fen’harel,” she huffed out in frustration. “Let me go.”

His smile was charming, filled with amusement, but she knew him well enough to know that an undercurrent of darkness lay beneath. “And why would I do that, _vhenan_?” he asked casually.

“Damn you, Fen’harel, you know very well why you should.” she hissed.

“Ah ah ah,” he chided her. “One does not rebuke a god. Do your kind have no manners, _vhenan_?”

“I have manners,” she deadpanned. “I even use them often… _on people who deserve them_.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the rich chuckle curling up contentedly in the pit of her stomach. “I should take your head for your impudence, my love,” he grinned, “but I have always rather enjoyed it. Very well then, _ma ha’rajan harellan_ , I suppose I will have to be the one to teach you manners.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If that means what I think it means, I don’t think so.”

Again, he grinned, but it was not a pleasant one. He stepped towards her, invading her personal space, crowding her, till her back was against the wall and he was pressed flush against her. “I have always enjoyed a challenge, _emma lath_ ,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. “Protest all you want. It will only make your eventual surrender all the sweeter.”

She snarled, the sound of her displeasure echoing in the empty cell. 

“Do you really mean that, Kiana?” he purred. “Do you not remember how it feels to have me inside you? Have you forgotten the pleasure I can bring you, _ma sa’lath?_ ”

She remembered. She remembered all too well. 

But she could not afford to let the Dread Wolf know that. It would make things much more complicated.

So she tried to brush it off instead. “You are no different from the others,” she said with a shrug.

And instantly wished she had said nothing at all.

His face darkened, his lips thinned to a dangerous line. “Others?” he asked, his voice deceptively silky. “And who might they be, Kiana?”

“Why should it matter?” she replied, trying to sound careless. In truth, her heart thundered away in her chest, the fear from deceiving him trickling slowly through her veins.

He gripped her face between his hands, so that she could only look at him. “I will have the truth, _vhenan_ , one way or another.” She remained obstinately silent. 

“I see,” he said, taking a small step back. “Remember that you started this.”

Before she could ponder the meaning of his words, she felt his mind probe into hers, pushing, pressing, demanding entry. Panicking, she hissed at him. “Stop that!” She felt the tendrils become smaller, till they resembled finely spun cobweb, and felt them spreading through the expanse of her memory, seeking out any cracks or points of weaknesses.

If she didn’t do something, he’d gain access to all her preciously guarded secrets.

 _The best defense is a good offence_ , she remembered, and sent out threads of her own into his mind.

To her utmost surprise, almost immediately she found a way in, and she understood why. His mind was a maze, layer upon layer of knowledge and secrets and deceptions, and if she was not careful she would end up forever lost within the vastness of it. She began to pull back slowly, but found her exit blocked.

And realized she had fallen for his plan.

He chuckled at the realization that dawned on her face. “It would take me days to break into your mind, _vhenan_ ,” he smiled, “with how securely you protect it.”

“Release me,” she said urgently, feeling her mind begin to splinter as part of it disconnected from her.

“Grant me access into your mind, and I will,” he said.

“You will devour me if I do,” she protested.

“I will devour you regardless,” he crooned. “But this way will be more pleasant for you.”

“Would you really let my mind break, Fen’harel?”

“It will not come to that, _vhenan_. You will give in before you reach that stage.”

Despite the headache that thrummed at her temples, she smiled wryly. “So sure of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“No,” he commented. “I’m sure of **you**. You will not let your mind break. You cannot afford to.”

That statement earned him a glare. “If I tell you the truth, will you let me go?” she bargained.

“Maybe,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Try it and see.”

She grit her teeth. “No.”

“What was that?” he asked silkily.

“No, okay? I said no. I lied.” she forced the words out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Now why would you lie to me, Kiana?” he asked smoothly. Relief washed over her as he released the tendrils of her mind. “What do you say?” he said, tucking a finger beneath her chin and lifting her head up to meet his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing her pride. He could have done worse, after all.

“That’s better,” he remarked. “Still, you haven’t explained why you tried to deliberately deceive me, _ma vhenan_.”

“I still don’t see how it’s any of your business,” she grumbled.

He pulled her arm towards his, ripping the sleeve of her tunic to expose the skin that lay beneath. “This is why it is very much my business” he growled, lifting her hand up so she could see the script that wrapped elegantly around her skin. “Do you forget you are **mine** , _vhenan? Ane emma lath, ma sa’lath, ma falon’saota_.”

She was unimpressed. “Fancy words, Fen’harel. But I am not a naive fool to swallow them up with my eyes closed. The truth is _you are selfish_. You discarded me when you thought I would inconvenience you, and you cared not for my feelings; now you claim me, but you _still_ care not for my feelings. Shouldn’t I have a say in what I want?”

He grinned wolfishly. “You can tell me what you want, _vhenan_ , and I will obey every word.”

She looked at him sardonically, as though to say _you can’t be serious_. A sudden flash of light blinded her, and when she opened her eyes she found herself on his bed, trapped beneath his body.

She swallowed thickly as the memories rushed in.

“Tell me what you want, Kiana,” he breathed persuasively into her ear. “I will be your devoted slave,” he added, gently taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging it.

She shivered.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice just the tiniest bit raspy.

“Certainly,” he said, but gave no indication of moving away from her. He sought out her arm, and trailed his tongue ever so slowly against the ancient elven script that marked her as his. 

She mewled as the pleasure coursed through her.

He repeated the action, and again, _and again_ , till the scent of her arousal permeated through the air. He lifted his head to look at her again, and with a devious grin, asked “Do you still want to go, _vhenan_?”

 _Damn him_. She ached for him, and he knew it. He had always played dirty to get his way.

But she had pride of her own.

“Yes,” she muttered hoarsely, propping herself up on her elbows.

That displeased him.

She felt his magic smooth itself over her, and she found her clothes _unravelling_ till all that remained was cloth and thread. She instinctively curled up to cover herself. 

“You are free to leave, _emma lath_ ,” he said, his eyes laughing down at her.

She swore softly beneath her breath, and shifted to gather up the pieces of cloth that were strewn about the bed.

He gave a deep, feral growl, and grabbed her hips hard, his fingers leaving bruises, pulling her towards him. With a single, fluid stroke, he sheathed himself deep within her, and she cried out at the sensation, the intense pleasure causing her to shudder deeply.

 _This was how it was. This was how it had always been._

He had always been home. Had always been her heart.

He bound her hands behind her back, forcing her face into the mattress, the action causing her back to arch and her hips to cant towards him. He began to move within her, slowly pulling out completely, and just as slowly pushing in, giving her enough friction to remain constantly aroused but depriving her of the release she now desperately sought. She mewled, she whimpered, she moaned, but still he denied her.

“Manners, _vhenan_ ,” he said cheekily. “Mind your manners.”

She cursed at him, and swore.

He stopped moving and stayed still within her, his grip on her waist preventing her from gaining any pleasure. He tut-tutted, the sound turning into a half-moan as she clenched tightly around him. 

“Damn you, Solas,” she ground out, trying to shift her hips, arch her back, do _something, anything_ to reach her peak.

Still he refused to move, and instead trailed his hand down between her legs, seeking out the sensitive nub that rested between her folds. He circled it lightly, enough pressure for her to feel something, but not enough for her to get any pleasure out of it.

She sobbed in frustration. “ _Sathan_! Please! Please, Solas, _sathan_ , Fen’harel.”

Satisfied, he resumed, increasing his pace till his hips were slamming against hers. At this angle, he was hitting that secret spot within her with each thrust, and she was soon screaming his name incoherently, begging and pleading with him to _please don’t stop, please, faster, yes, right there, please_. Her release slammed into her, the force of it causing her to shatter, and she _howled_ his name into the silence of the room, uncaring of who heard her. He kept thrusting into her as she rode her orgasm, extending the pleasure of her release, until the spasms of her cunt became too much for him to ignore, and he spilled into her with a feral cry.

Panting, exhausted, still mindless with pleasure, they curled around each other, their limbs so tangled she did not know where she ended and he began.

“Thank you,” he said, gently pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She grinned and burrowed deeper into his arms, and together they drifted off into peaceful sleep.

Later, in the middle of the night, she crept out of his room and out of his castle.

She had too much pride, and he too much power, for them to tangle for more than a night.

_Pride and power do not good bedfellows make._

**Author's Note:**

>  _emma lath_ \- my love
> 
>  _ma sa'lath_ \- my one love
> 
>  _ma ha’rajan harellan_ \- my rebel queen.
> 
>  _Ane emma lath, ma sa’lath, ma falon’saota_ \- You are my love, my one love, my bond mate.
> 
>  _sathan_ \- please.
> 
> I suck at writing smut. But I did it anyway ~oh well~
> 
> The trevelyan/solas smut train has been running endlessly in my head. IT FINALLY FOUND A STATION.


End file.
